Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles - Vol. 2

by Damon Novak

  “Y’all see them crazy zombie gators? Asked Danny. “Rode mighta sounded a little scared, but at least he was rational when I caught him for a while in my car. Any plan that gets us outta gator country’s good enough for me.”

  “You don’t have a ship-to-shore in that boat?” asked Roxy.

  Danny smiled big, his white teeth gleamin’ against his black skin. “It ain’t no 1950s fishin’ trawler,” he said. “I use my cell and my MP3 player. No CB radio, no … whatever the hell you asked about.”

  Roxy shrugged, and Terry said, “Seriously, Rox. Ship-to-shore? Where’d you even hear that?”

  “Old movie, I guess,” she said, blushin’.

  “I’d like to get up at the crack of dawn and get movin’,” I said. “If that suits everyone. Like Danny said, maybe we can get some bait and catch some fish for lunch and dinner. We’re gonna get awful tired of tamales.”

  Ω

  That night, Lilly doubled up with Danny, which was just a bit weird for me. I had Liam on the other side of my bed, and the dude tossed and turned all night.

  That kept me up.

  The next mornin’, maybe twenty minutes before dawn, I snuck into the main cabin and found Lilly’s smokes. I slid one from the pack and headed up to the flybridge and sat, lighting it with some waterproof matches I found in a dry box built into the helm.

  On my second draw of the cigarette, I heard, “Still stealin’ smokes from Lil, huh?”

  I turned to see Danny ease into the bench seat behind me, stretchin’ out his legs. He only had his swim trunks on, which was normal for him when he was in a boat.

  “Yep,” I said. “And it just occurred to me I didn’t bring my trunks.”

  “Boxers’ll do,” said Danny. “How you doin’, brother?”

  “Better now you’re here,” I said, and I meant it. “Believe me when I tell you, there are some bright minds here on this boat. We can make all the plans we want, but if I run us aground, none of it’s for shit.”

  “You can handle boats just fine.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. You’re way better on big water. I got here by the skin of my teeth.”

  “You got here. That’s a feat.”

  “Sorry about your folks, Danny. You doin’ alright?”

  He shrugged. “Best as can be expected. I haven’t cornered the market on sorrow. So, your pa, and both Tanner and Clay?”

  “Lilly dealt with Pa. I was with Clay and Tan when Tan got sick. Then Clay did. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Danny stared at the smoke curlin’ from my cigarette until I flicked it over the edge, out into the water. He sighed.

  “Lilly told me about your dad. You both did what I shoulda done, man. I shouldn’t have left mine like that.”

  “From what I can tell, they don’t know. No idea what they are.”

  Danny nodded, but added, “I know. That’s almost worse.”

  I stared at the shore. When I turned back, I saw Danny was, too. “Look how dark it is,” he said. “Normally you can make out that shoreline like a line on a map.”

  “The things out there don’t need lights,” I said.

  “CB, I just keep tryin’ to wake up.”

  “You and me both. Remember you and me, after we saw 28 Days Later? What was that? Back in 2001? 2002?”

  Danny nodded his head and flashed an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. We were just kids. Remember, we thought we’d just get out there and knock heads. I remember, we both just thought we’d carry around baseball bats and whack our way through ‘em.”

  I laughed, but the moment passed as reality set in again. “So, you wanna tell me I’m hallucinatin’ or somethin’? Kick me to wake me up? ‘Cause there’s no way we’re really havin’ this conversation, right?”

  Danny stared out at the blank shoreline. “It’s real as shit, man. You know as well as I do we ain’t crazy.”

  “You really wanna fish today?”

  “Look. I’m up so I can motor off and get that bait. The kid wants to fish, and you guys will probably eat somethin’ before we take off, so I got time. Maybe get us a snook or two, some trout or redfish or somethin’.”

  “Good plan. Take a radio with you.”

  He patted my shoulder. “No worries, CB. Give me maybe twenty minutes. I know a good bait spot.”

  He started to get up, but I grabbed his wrist. “Wait. Let’s both go,” I said. “I’ll leave a note.”

  “Lilly’s awake,” he said. His face broke into a smile. “You cool? As for me, I’m glad it’s finally out.”

  I winked. “Tell your girlfriend we’re headin’ out.”

  Ω

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We grabbed a couple of bottled waters from the refrigerator inside, and pushed off in the Sportsman. When we’d drifted off about twenty feet, Danny lowered the trim until the motors were in the water and fired ‘em up.

  In the smooth way he operated that boat, he got up on plane quickly and motored east, to a spot even I was familiar with, just about a half-mile from the Sea Ray.

  It was grassy, and the moment we reached it, I saw the familiar white-green flashes of the silvery fish we used for bait. The school was thick, dartin’ back and forth like a magic carpet in a cartoon.

  Danny threw the transmission into neutral and jumped back to pull his cast net from a 5-gallon bucket. He expertly draped it over his shoulder, picked several sections of the net up, holding them in his teeth. Then he half-pivoted right, and unwound his body, throwin’ that net in a perfect circle.

  When he pulled it up, it shimmered with hundreds of baitfish.

  “Jesus, man!” I shouted. “One cast, done!”

  He laughed, and I saw a lot of the tension drain from his face, not to mention his body. He opened the live well and turned the net inside-out, dumpin’ the catch in. He turned to me. “Let’s do one more. Can’t have enough, plus these greenbacks die easier than pinfish.”

  I nodded and stood back. “King of the Cast, proceed, sir.”

  He did his prep and windup again and tossed the net.

  Just before it hit the water, I saw somethin’ move. All the baitfish darted away.

  “What the hell?” asked Danny.

  Suddenly, he was fightin’ with the net. He stumbled forward, his knees hittin’ the rail.

  “CB, give me a hand!” he shouted.

  I ran up beside him.

  “Grab the net and pull!” he said. “Maybe have a grouper or somethin’.”

  It was on the bottom, I could tell, but now the water was clouded with silt, and visibility was zilch.

  “Pull!” he yelled. “Even if it’s a nurse shark, we can cut that bastard up and have some good shark steaks.”

  We both leaned back, pullin’ hand over hand, hookin’ our fingers into the net as it slowly rose from the depths.

  “One more!” he said, and we leaned back, givin’ it everything in us.

  “Shit!” I screamed, when the man’s face came out of the water, his netted hand reachin’ straight up at us.

  “Holy fuck!” shouted Danny, and we both let go of that net at the same time, both tumblin’ backward onto the Sportsman’s deck.

  We were both back on our feet in an instant, pressin’ ourselves to the other side of the boat. I didn’t have to reach into the back of my pants to remember I’d left my gun aboard the Sea Ray.

  “It’s caught on the cleat!” I yelled. “You got a knife?”

  “I don’t wanna cut that net!” said Danny. “It’s the big one!”

  “Danny, if you have a smaller one, cut it! Fucker’s climbin’ in!”

  And he was. I don’t have any idea how he was, but the second his hand clutched the rail through the net, his body started to come into view.

  I knew we were both approachin’ panic. I heard screamin’ in the distance and looked up to see the Sea Ray. Lilly was on the deck with the binoculars to her eyes.

  I’d never hear the fuckin’ end of it. I could hear the questio
ns about leavin’ my gun over and over.

  “Wait, Danny! Get your gun! Shoot it!”

  “Fuck, right,” said Danny, and he turned toward the console and reached into a netted storage pouch.

  He came back with a revolver of some kind; I’d never seen the gun before. It was big; maybe a .40 or a .45.

  The struggling zombie dropped into the boat, hitting the deck on his back. He jammed his fingers through the webbing and pulled hard, tearin’ it like it was paper. Seaweed was wrapped around his body, and his hands and feet were torn up, probably from draggin’ across the sharp coral beds that trashed so many boat propellers.

  I knew now, from how he pulled himself over that railin’ and how he tore that net away, just how goddamned strong they were. His face jutted through the webbing, and he opened his foul mouth to let out a throaty scream, when a crab crawled over his bottom teeth and skittered up over his shredded face, then to the deck of the boat.

  I think that was too much for both of us. Danny fired the gun into his right eye, his hand shakin’ bad.

  The thing’s body went slack. I let out a big breath and fell back down to the deck. “Pull the rest of that net in so nothin’ else can climb up it,” I wheezed, barely able to make the words audible. “Fuck, Danny!”

  “Net’s fucked anyway,” he said. “And who knows what the damned bait fish have been feedin’ on. Come here. Give me a hand.”

  I sighed, pushed myself up, and went to him. “There,” said Danny. “Get his ass. I got his arms.”

  “I get dibs on the arms next time,” I said.

  Together, we hoisted him over the edge. The net was still caught, but Danny took out a knife and cut it away. The dead zombie sank back to the depths of the deeper water we’d drifted into.

  “On the bright side, we have bait,” he said. “And no matter what they been feedin’ on, the fish we catch with ‘em won’t have time to digest ‘em.”

  “So, I got myself a glass half full motherfucker,” I said.

  “Damned straight.”

  “Good.”

  Ω

  The net trashed and the livewell full enough, Danny fired up the Sportsman and motored back to the boat. Lilly was waitin’ for us by the time we pulled up.

  I guess we woke up the whole boat, because everyone came out right behind her.

  “Dumbasses!” shouted Lilly, as we pulled up alongside the Sea Ray. “What were you thinking?”

  “Relax, Lil,” I said. “We just went out to get some baitfish. Didn’t seem like a risk.”

  “Until you pull up a damned zombie!” she said. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” said Danny, still visibly shaken. “Just another lesson learned.”

  “Deeper water,” I said. “Definitely need deeper water.”

  “You both need bigger brains more like,” said Lilly. “You about scared me half to death. What were we supposed to do if you both got yourselves killed? What if there were four or five of those things instead of just one?”

  I finished tying off the bow, and Danny got the stern line. “I know, I know,” he said. “Sorry Lil.”

  I smiled, knowin’ Lilly’s face. She didn’t wanna be mad at Danny. I was a different story. I think she liked bein’ mad at me.

  She took his hand as he climbed aboard. “You’re okay, right? No scratches or bites?”

  Danny shook his head. “Didn’t let it get close enough. Damn. That freaked me out.”

  “The good news is the crabs survived,” I said.

  “Do I need to look you two over?” asked Georgie, from inside the salon door.

  “We’re fine, Georgie,” I said. “Close call is all. It didn’t touch us.”

  Liam pushed past Georgina and ran over to the rail. “Can we go fishing?”

  “I got lots of bait, but I think we’d be better off heading up the coast a bit,” said Danny. “Maybe have a bite and head out?”

  “I’m not hungry,” said Lilly. “I’d feel better if we were moving.”

  “Me, too,” said Terry. His face was pale, and I realized the water was beginnin’ to get choppy. The boat at anchor was gonna play hell with seasickness if I didn’t get goin’.

  “Okay. Danny, you wanna grab somethin’ to eat on board, or you plan on trollin’ for your breakfast?”

  “I’ll take whatever you got. Lil, you wanna ride with me?”

  “I’m not letting you go alone. You’ll have that net out again.”

  Danny shook his head. “That net’s gone. Just got the small one now. Don’t worry. I learned my lesson.”

  Lilly made a sound that told us both she wasn’t so sure. I took my own advice and hurried into the main cabin and fired up the Sea Ray.

  Danny settled on canned pears. I gave him a second can of peaches – Lilly’s favorite – and they headed out to his boat.

  “You sure you don’t wanna ride in this?” I called out. “I’m sure Liam would go with him.”

  “That boy stays in this boat,” shot Lilly. “Danny knows what he’s doing. We’ll have the radio, so just stay close behind us and keep your eyes open.”

  “I’ll fuckin’ tailgate you.”

  “Then I’ll pray, too,” she said, shakin’ her head.

  “You’ll pray,” I mumbled. “Like I’m dangerous or somethin’.”

  “You’re kind of dangerous,” said Georgie. “And you’re really big. How tall are you?”

  I laughed. “My driver’s license says 6’4” but I lied. I’m 6’3”. Felt tall until Danny showed up.”

  “How long have you known one another?””

  “Hold on a sec,” I said. “Lilly will have my gizzard if I mess this up. Where’s everyone else?”

  “Down in the salon. You need help?”

  “You wanna operate the windlass? I’ll bump us forward and break the anchor loose, then you just hit the switch to bring it up.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  We got it done without help from anyone else. Georgie told me Roxy and Terry were playin’ Jenga or some shit like that. I couldn’t figure out how that’d work once we got underway, but ‘twern’t my problem.

  That’s a mispronunciation of the English language, one among many we like to do in the south. Visit sometime. You’ll get used to it.

  “How was that?” asked Georgie.

  “Did the anchor slide in the slot and snug up against the bow rail?” I asked.

  “Snug,” she nodded. “Whatever a bow rail is.”

  I smiled. “Ready for a boat ride?”

  “Wish that’s all it was. You and Danny going to need more time to hash things out?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t think so. You mean about him and Lilly, or about headin’ to Kansas?”

  “I was talking about Kansas.”

  Danny was idlin’ around in circles, so I pushed the throttle forward and the motors kicked in. We slowly gained momentum, and he took off, leadin’ the way. Once I got the trim set, I kept one eye on the depth gauge, which currently read 21 feet.

  “What are those squiggly lines?” asked Georgie, sippin’ on a cup of coffee that I wished I had. Rather than ask for one, I held out my hand and she gave me the cup.

  “Thanks.” I took a sip and gave it back. “Those are past trips the owner of this boat took. Lookie right there. See that black line? Looks like it goes straight up to right around Beaumont, Texas. Not a bad spot to land.”

  “How many miles is that?” she asked.

  “Just over 750 as the crow flies,” I said. “Means a few refuels, but that also means we’d have to hug the coast, which means even more miles, more diesel and more stops.”

  “When did you work all this out?” she asked.

  I laughed. “Had you thinkin’ I was a nautical navigator extraordinaire, didn’t I?”

  “Actually, you did.”

  “After Lilly fell asleep, Danny came out. We had a couple beers and went over everything. Our mileage is around 220 miles per tank, give or take. With the wind at our
stern, calm waters, and no bullcrap on the way, that might hold.”

  “How many gallons does it hold?”

  “275, accordin’ to the manual. No reason to doubt it.”

  “This gets less than one mile per gallon? That comes out to around .8 when I round the number.”

  “These boats ain’t built for poor folks.”

  She shook her head. “Apparently not. Makes it easy, though. 750 miles times 0.8. That’s over nine hundred gallons of fuel, Cole. Including what’s in the tank.”

  I whistled. “We ain’t doin’ that with 5-gallon cans. We’re gonna need a fillin’ station, ‘bout fourteen 55-gallon drums and a good drum dolly.”

  “And a bigger boat,” said Terry, from behind us. We both spun around.

  “And you know that how?” I asked.

  “Oh, just some inane trivia my dad always filled my head with. The most useless stuff stuck, but now I’m thinking it wasn’t as dumb as I thought at the time. A gallon of diesel weighs around six-and-a-half pounds. With as much fuel as we need, you’d be putting over 5,000 pounds on the boat. One big wave shifting those barrels and we roll over.”

  The kid was right, and I didn’t even have to think about it. “Good point, Terry. No tellin’ where we’d have put ‘em all anyway.”

  “Sometimes it’s better just knowing what you’ve got to do ahead of time. Rather than get to the fuel and realize it’s not possible.”

  “Looks like we’re cruisin’ up the coast,” I said. “We’ll cut corners where we can, but this is gonna be a long-ass haul.”

  “Do you need to let Danny know?”

  “He knew we’d need to dump his boat at some point. Might be smart to pick up a smaller skiff to tow behind and he can ride in here.” I took a deep breath. “Where’s the radio?”

  Georgie got it from somewhere and gave it to me. I pushed the button. “Lilly, you read?”

  “Yeah, what is it, CB?” The Sportsman’s motor was loud in the background.

  “We’re gonna have to hug the shoreline all the way. Too many refuels, not enough weight capacity to handle all the fuel we’d need to carry.”

  “Well, that sucks,” said Lilly. “How long are we looking at that way?”